Sibling to Insanity
by ViciousHerring
Summary: Part nature, part nurture. One's supposedly executed past, left unspoken of for years, walks in through the heat wash. Pre-film, Team-fic, OC. I do not own the A-Team or any of it's characters.
1. Chapter 1

Murdock stares into the distance; this isn't an uncommon thing for him to do. He usually sees parades or UFOs, typical stuff; he's never one to see very disturbing things, an occasional octopus is okay but not dead people, not fairly recently dead people.

"How're those steaks doin', Murdock?" Faceman's voice interrupts the lunatic's musing.

"Ahh, zee steaks are en flambé," he replies, flipping a piece of meat and leaning away from the fireball that jumps from the grill.

"Excellent my good man!" Face calls, walking decisively away from the explosive cooking.

Murdock looks to the distance, again, the ghost he saw in the shimmering heat wash is gone.

"The dead should stay dead, Billy," he murmurs to his invisible dog.

* * *

><p>"Hey boss?" Murdock says, approaching Hannibal in what could be considered a shy manner.<p>

"Murdock? What's up?" the Colonel asks, nodding to Face and B.A. The two men understand the tone in the pilot's voice and excuse themselves. Murdock nods to them without looking up.

"I think I'm seeing dead people, Boss."

Hannibal regards the pilot carefully while chewing at his cigar.

"That would be a new one," he says slowly, "who did you see, Captain?"

"I think I saw Sophie," Murdock replies quietly, his eyes wide and fearful.

* * *

><p>Relaxing in their tent, shootin' the breeze, Face talks about a new conquest, B.A. tries to grab Murdock's puppets before they launch into another aria and Hannibal mulls over the details of the next plan. Everything is as it should be. A figure darkens the open flap of their tent, even this, though, is expected; it should be the General coming to discuss the objective of the next mission.<p>

The friendly banter slowly fades, questioning glances shooting between Face, Baracus and Smith. Though he's in the middle of an arpeggio, the changing atmosphere is not lost on Murdock, he swivels around in his chair. His clear notes transform into a wild shrieking, the pilot leaps from his seat, back pedaling away from the open flap of the tent. He crashes into the map table, his teammates yelling, yelling something.

"Stop, drop and roll," Murdock cries, falling to the ground and rolling across the hard packed floor. He rolls right to the wall of the tent and forces his way under it. His babbling screams trail off as he runs blindly through the camp away from that unknown figure in his team's tent.

"What the hell was that about?" B.A. shouts, turning to the still silent visitor.

"Don't just stand there, boys, get after him," Smith roars, sending his men after their unstable pilot. He, too, glares at the visitor as Face and B.A. fly from the tent.

"Hetch?" the stranger says.


	2. The Doll

Face enters the tent first, holding the flap open for B.A. and his flailing burden. They caught Murdock outside the Mess, halfway across the camp, shrieking and babbling about missed executions and group hallucinations.

"We just about had to hog tie the fool," B.A. announces, dropping the pilot like a sack into a chair. The fool was, in fact, gagged with his hands cuffed behind him and his Converse-clad feet duct taped together.

The mysterious stranger, a woman covered in scars and dressed as a medic, spins around on the stool she's perched upon as Murdock yanks the gag from his mouth, one wrist trailing his former bindings.

"Jammy!" the woman says brightly, looking intently at the pilot.

"No! No... No, no, no," he says pointing, "No, you were executed. You're not here," Murdock looks pleadingly at his Colonel, "She's not here..."

"Gentlemen, this is...," Hannibal begins, gesturing to the 'medic.'

"Dolly," Murdock supplies, sullen, "my sister."

"What! Sister!" Face cries, a smile forming on his face.

"You kiddin' me?" B.A. spouts.

"It's nice to meet you, we never knew H...m..," Faceman's smile dies when Dolly turns to greet him. "You two have the same eyes..," he finishes awkwardly, the sparkling madness he'd grown to expect in the pilot's eyes reflected and horribly magnified in Dolly's glassy orbs.

She cocks her head, blinking slowly, one eye beginning to close before the other; Face's jaw hangs open at the sight of a perfectly bisected eyelid sliding over the woman's left eye.

"Candy for Dolly," Murdock says softly, holding one of his tranquilizers gingerly between two fingers.

"Did you say executed?" B.A. asks.

Murdock shakes and nods his head, gesturing for Baracus to keep quiet; in the same motion, he places a hand on Face's shoulder, moving him away from his sister. Hannibal stands back, arms crossed, chewing at his ever-present stogie and paying close attention to the interaction between the two Murdock's.

"Hey Dolly," HM says.

"Hey Jammy," she replies, an oddly innocent voice coming from such a scarred face.

"It's been a long time," the pilot continues, crouching in front of the 'medic.'

"Simon said to find you," Dolly responds seriously, "Candy for Dolly?"

Murdock stiffens at the mention of the name but shakes it off with a smile, "Yeah, candy for Dolly," he raises his hand, offering the tranq.

She grins sweetly at her brother, "Just one, Jammy?"

"'Course not, baby doll, there's more," HM lifts his other hand, showing a pile of pills that must be at least half his stash. "Open up. No biting."

Dolly leans toward her big brother, her lips peeling back, a soft growl slipping through her teeth.

Murdock pulls his hand away, "Chatty Cathy, no candy," he warns.

She snorts and opens her mouth wide.

"Jesus," Face whispers, six of Dolly's front teeth are filed to sharp points. B.A. elbows the lieutenant.

Murdock carefully places the pills in her mouth, allowing her to chew and swallow between each one, the rest of the Alpha team watching.

"Last one, Sophie Doll," the lunatic says gently, holding up a sixth tranquilizer.

He deposits the pill on her tongue and before he can pull his fingers away she closes her mouth, firmly holding his fingers between her unfiled teeth.

"Don't you wake her," the Murdock sibling mumbles menacingly around the digits in her mouth.

"Okay, Dolly, you're right, I'm sorry," the pilot whispers.

"I'll tell Simon," she replies, biting down harder.

"No, no, no, no, Billy runs from Simon," Murdock answers quickly, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Dolly's eyes widen and go soft, "Billy!" she says releasing HM's fingers and toppling forward unconscious.

"Cripes, fool, you overdose her?" Baracus can't contain himself as the pilot easily catches his sister and lowers her to the ground, cradling her head and shoulders in his lap.

"What was that about executed, Captain?" Hannibal finally speaks.

HM takes a deep breath, brushing back the hair on Dolly's forehead, "Help me secure her first," he says in a sadly stable voice.


	3. Intension

"She was scheduled to be executed while I was in Mexico," Murdock says, checking over the cuffs and heavy restraints on the gurney.

"How come you never said anything?" Faceman asks.

"By the time you guys showed up, it was supposed to be too late. I thought Sophie had been dead for months. There was no point in saying anything," HM explains, sounding more sane than he ever has before.

"She was never in your file, Captain. No mention of next of kin anywhere," Hannibal says gruffly; he would know as the only person to have read the pilot's complete medical and military history.

"I left her out," Murdock states. "It was safer that way," he stands defensively over his unconscious sister who has been strapped and cuffed and chained to the heavy gurney.

"'Safer' for whom?" Face says, confused, "You? Her?" He can't seem to take his eyes off Dolly's split eyelid, watching the pupil dart back and forth beneath the cut skin. "How did she get like this?" he steps around Murdock, leaning over the prone body, entranced by the webs of scars on her skin.

The pilot grabs the lieutenant's arm, squeezing. Face looks at his friend who shakes his head, his expression speaking volumes. Faceman raises his hands in surrender and moves away from the gurney.

"You call her Sophie, man. So what's with Dolly? Is that her crazy?" B.A. asks, blunt as ever.

"Heh, my baby sister's crazy makes me seem like the most average person on this side of the galaxy," Murdock tries to explain without explaining. "Aah, we should have an hour or so before they're conscious again. Let's have a drink. Billy stay, watch Dolly."

The pilot ushers his team to the other side of the tent, mumbling to his invisible dog. The team, for their part, remains quiet, deciding to let Murdock say what he needs and only prompt him when necessary.

"'They?'" Hannibal asks, settling into a chair with a snifter of whiskey and his cigar.

Murdock downs his drink in one, he's pacing, which is never a good sign. He plucks Faceman's glass out of his hand and shoots that one, too, handing the glass back before Face has a chance to say anything. The madcap finally plants himself on a stool, he's rocking now, too, also a bad sign.

"They," he says, nodding and rocking in the heavy silence that follows. B.A. and Face shift uncomfortably in the quiet, Hannibal just watches.

A loud clicking, creaking sound disrupts the tense atmosphere, B.A. jumps to his feet, "What the..!"

"Good," Murdock says softly, ceasing his rocking, "She's actually sleeping now... there will be screaming soon, though."

Hannibal looks at his pilot quizzically.

"She screams in her sleep, has since she was a baby," Murdock explains, "Pretty much the only time she's Sophie is when she sleeps... and screams."

The usually good-natured lunatic falls silent, he looks tired and sad; the unstable weight of the subject resting precariously on his unbalanced mind.

"So..," Faceman prompts, looking sideways at HM, "this execution thing?"

"Alright, Temp! I'm getting to it!" Murdock shouts, kicking away his stool as he leaps up.

"Hey man, calm down!" the lieutenant replies sharply, putting his hands up.

"Calm down! Jeez, Temp, this is my sister! She was scheduled to be executed by the state years ago! She's been alive this whole time! And not only is Sophie alive! She's on the opposite side of the globe from where she should be buried!" HM takes a breath to continue his rant, his gaze jumps to a spot by his feet. "What is it, Billy? What is it, boy?"

He spins on his heel, listening intently, staring into the darkness surrounding the gurney that holds his sister.

"Crud."

A wretched building wail, like the tormented dead giving voice to all the suffering of the world, comes from that dark corner.

The wiry pilot flies to the work bench, grabbing filter masks and rolled cotton, scissors and packing straps.

"I'm gonna need a hand, guys," Murdock hollers through the screams.

His teammates jump to their feet to assist. The screaming is earsplitting and soul crushing. Face slows as he approaches; he can hear the gurney rattling and the restraints groaning in protest against the woman's thrashing. In all the years that he's known the crazy pilot's ups and downs, he's never been faced with such overwhelming insanity. It's strangely humbling.

"Hannibal, tighten the chain at her ankles. Big Guy, this strap goes over her thighs, cinch it tight," Murdock shouts commands, tossing a strap to B.A., ripping the rolled cotton with his teeth and chewing it into a small packet. "Face! Face, man get over here!"

The lieutenant shakes himself from his reverie and joins HM at the head of the gurney.

"She's a lot stronger now and still has those teeth; I need you to hold her head still. Boss check her wrist; Bosco get the other side."

The gurney is shaking so hard it seems it might come apart at the joints; Sophie/Dolly's screams don't weaken for a moment.

"This one goes over her ribcage," Murdock hands off another strap.

"It's like she's having a seizure!" Hannibal yells.

"Grab her, Temp! Christ, I can't do this by myself anymore!" Murdock hollers his fingers in his sister's mouth.

"Fuck!" Face shouts, grabbing the woman's head and forcing it to the pillow. Her eyes open wide, HM yelps as she bites him and a piercing shriek fills the air.

"You sure she's asleep?" Faceman yells, staring into those wild eyes, fighting to keep her head still.

"Yes! Dammit!" Murdock replies, shaking his bitten hand, blood oozing from six perfect puncture wounds. He grips his sister's chin with the wounded hand, digging his thumb into the soft flesh below the jaw. He works another wad of cotton into a small pack.

"Hetch! Nooo," Sophie cries, despair and terror ringing through, tears streaming from her wide, unseeing eyes. "I didn't kill him! He's not dead!"

Murdock freezes for just a moment before stuffing the cotton pack into his sister's mouth, far to the back, between the upper and lower jaw. He leans in close, resting his forehead against Face's hands and murmurs soothingly to his insane sibling.

HM hands to last packing strap to Hannibal gesturing for it to go across Sophie's shoulder, her thrashing calmed some at the gentle whispers from her big brother. He forces more cotton into her mouth and maneuvers the filter masks onto her face effectively muffling her screams.

"And... let go," Murdock says to his team.

They step away from the gurney, watching horrified as her spasms increase, the bed shaking, the restraints holding.

"Murdock," Faceman says, reaching for his friend, "I'm so sorry. I didn't..."

Murdock cuts him off with a withering glare. "Keep your pity," he spits, "Boss... plans have changed."


	4. Explanations, of a Sort

"Alright, Captain, what do we need to do?" Hannibal, matter-of-fact as ever, settles back into his camp chair, a fresh whiskey in his hand.

"Yeah, man, does she need to be watched?" B.A. asks pointedly.

Face remains silent, sullen from being rebuked by his friend. At least the pilot doesn't pull away when he wordlessly treats Murdock's bitten hand. Sophie's screams can barely be heard anymore but the creaking rattle of the gurney and restraints are a constant reminder of her presence at the back of the tent.

"No, we don't need to watch her. She'll get out of the bed on her own when she wakes up," HM starts, watching the bandages wrap around his hand. "I don't really know what to do next; we can't keep her in the camp... Waaah, we are on the edge of a war zone, though..." he trails off for a second, thoughtful, "No, no. It's just not safe here."

"That's the second time you've said that, Crazy," B.A. says. "Who's safety we talkin' about here?"

Murdock forces a smile, "The camp's, yours... everyone's," he gestures grandly.

"Hey, hold still, buddy, not done yet," Face commands gently, grabbing the bandaged hand.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation," Murdock tries to explain again without explaining anything.

"We're trying to understand," Hannibal interjects," but you haven't given us much to work with."

A frustrated noise escapes the pilot. "This isn't easy... Okay. I _became _crazy, you know?" HM looks to his teammates, searching for understanding, "Sophie _CAME_ that way," he exclaims, gesturing toward his sister.

"She's part, er most of the reason I am the way I am. She taught me how to let go of... And, and what to do when the voices... She escaped the wards _every day_, to find _ME_... I'VE been covering up Simon's... you know, you _must_ know, even before she was _FIVE_...Dozens _AFTER_ that... then I was in the Army... They put her in general population... _**FIFTEEN**_ in two days. That's when the judicial murder was handed down... I was already in Mexico... Fed tried to _fast track_ her, right? But she's here... she's here... she's..," Murdock stops, twitches; he scrubs his hands over his face, glancing at his friends, gauging their reactions. "I can get answers out of George... if he's not gone senile... It's been a long time, though."

"Are you saying that she's been killing people since before she was five, Captain?" Hannibal asks leaning forward, giving the pilot no way of avoiding the question.

"Not her, not Sophie," HM's voice cracks, his gaze watery and desperate, "_SIMON_ and Dolly, even George, that old bastard. Marie will only defend herself... It's been so long, there might be others. Sophie's still in there, somewhere. She has to be... she's my baby sister..." Tears spill from Murdock's eyes, he's rocking again, and no more half explanations are forthcoming.

B.A. reacts first; he hunkers down in front of the madcap and gently takes hold of his thin wrists.

"Hey, Crazy," Baracus says softly, leaning into the rocking lunatic, "Let's get outa this place for a bit. Come on."

Murdock nods and allows B.A. to drag him to his feet. The big guy keeps hold of one wrist, leading the pilot out of the tent, snatching the bottle of whiskey that's offered by Hannibal as they pass.

"I should talk to the General in the morning about this... development," Hannibal says more to himself than to Faceman who nods, staring at nothing, lost in the sounds of the shaking gurney and rattling chains in the dark, far corner of their tent.


	5. Unexpected Comfort

Bosco and Murdock walk aimlessly through the camp, neither speaking, casually passing the bottle back and forth. The big guy still holds HM's wrist in his grip, gentle enough to be companionable, firm enough to reassure the unstable man of his solid presence.

Baracus knows that, once in a while, when Murdock's crazies get the best of him, Face and even Hannibal will hold his hand or wrap him protectively in their arms; B.A. doesn't think he could manage something like that, so he offers what he can.

"I want you to know that I get it, Murdock," B.A. says, finally breaking the silence between them. The pilot stiffens at the words but doesn't pull away.

"Bosc, you don't...," Murdock begins, reaching to take the whiskey with his free hand.

"Then let me tell you what I think and you can tell me if I'm wrong," the big man responds, cutting off any argument before it starts.

"I can see that it's hard, I ain't blind," B.A. starts, "she's your baby sister. "There's a guilty look to you, too... It was easier, wasn't it..? When you thought she'd been executed?"

"Fuck you, Bosco!" Murdock shouts, swinging at the big Ranger. B.A. still has his wrist, though, and uses the pilot's wild swing to twist him around and pin his spindly arms harmlessly to his chest, holding him from behind. HM struggles against the big man even though he knows it's pointless.

"Hey, Crazy, it's okay," Baracus' deep voice says into Murdock's ear. "I've felt that way before. You love your sister; you might even love some of the other people in her, too. I understand that, fool." B.A. maneuvers the squirming pilot and pushes him against a nearby deuce and a half. "I'm not accusing you of anything, man," he says releasing his friend and stepping back, his hands in the air.

Murdock spins, arms raised to fight. "Fuck you, Bosco," he says again, his voice breaking. "You don't know what it was like. You don't know what they're capable of. I don't... I don't..." Murdock falls to his knees, sobs wracking his lean frame. He clutches the forgotten whiskey bottle like a teddy bear.

"Shit," B.A. mutters, stunned by the sudden outburst. ***(I am a bit, too)***

"Hey, Crazy, it's gonna be okay," Bosco drops down next to his friend.

"You don't know that," Murdock gasps through his choking tears.

"Sure I do, Crazy. I know that you're scared you can't handle her the way you used to but we're here to help you, man. We're a team, right? I know what you saw when she walked into our tent today," Baracus grabs Murdock's shoulders.

"You do..?" is the sniffly, muffled response.

"You saw all the worry and fear of your entire life before the Rangers walk right through that door. You don't have to do it by yourself, HM," Baracus finishes, holding Murdock at arm's length to look him in the eye.

"You never call me that," Murdock says surprised.

"It's your name, ain't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Murdock mumbles as B.A. hauls him to his feet and wrestles away the now empty bottle.

"Come on, Crazy."

* * *

><p>"Hey, I have an idea," Face pipes up when B.A. and Murdock stumble back into the tent.<p>

Hannibal looks at his XO curiously, "Go on."

"Let's figure out what we're going to do about the next mission. We can't just tell the General we need a rain check," Faceman states, looking around at his teammates.

"I've been thinking about that," Hannibal says carefully, beckoning B.A. and Murdock over, "have a seat, gentlemen, this could still be a long night."


	6. Observations

The ebb and flow of conversation relaxes the overwrought lunatic. This is his team; they could get through any situation with Hannibal leading them, even the twisting insanities of his baby sister and all of her sometimes conflicting goals.

Murdock settles more into his spot on the ground, his back carefully to the gurney that holds his sibling, the thought being, he'd know she was coming, somehow he always does and they would never injure him, intentionally anyway.

"Of course toast points!" the pilot cries, throwing his hands in the air.

A thin, scarred hand snakes out of the shadows and grasps Murdock's fingers. Not one of them had heard the woman slip from such heavy restraints. Hannibal stiffens at the thought of so skilled an escape artist but tries to continue with the easy banter the team exchanges.

Murdock clasps the hand from the darkness and his sibling forward into the flickering glow of the camp lights. Not only has she escaped the gurney but she left behind her medic's costume as well. Sophie Murdock is lean and wiry with corded muscles running along her arms and legs just like her brother. Dressed only in too large boxers and a stained tank top, she twirls gracefully and settles smoothly into her brother's lap.

Face has to keep his jaw from hitting the floor at the sight of the intense scarring that runs rampant over her skin. What was visible on her hands and face was only a fraction of the intricate webs of fine lines and random ugly keloids that trace her limbs.

"Morning, Jammy," she says, her voice tinged with sleep as she reclines into her brother to be cradled like a child.

"Hello, Dolly," Murdock replies, a heart-breaking, warm smile spreads over his face, watching his sister carefully while she holds up his bandaged hand for inspection.

The pilot returns to the conversation with his teammates, swaying gently with his sister in his arms. They had been trying to determine the plausibility of convincing the General to postpone their mission using the same techniques employed on B.A., Murdock's coconut curry tapenade.

"Are we go for Mission Curry?" the pilot asks, looking over his friends.

"I don't see why we can't use the Antifreeze Marinade," Face puts in, "a little partial paralysis for the General might help our cause."

"Ha! I don't know if it's guaranteed paralysis, though, it might just be you, Lieutenant," Hannibal laughs.

"This is bad," Dolly says, her head leaning against Murdock's chest. She points determinedly at his bandaged hand.

"Bosco, can you hand me the med kit?" Murdock asks, disentangling his hand from Dolly's probing fingers.

"You sure about that, Captain?" the Colonel interjects.

"Oh yeah, Dolly's quite the surgeon," HM says, "She can put people together as easily as she takes them apart."

B.A. hesitates at the statement but Dolly is quick, she snatches the small kit from his hand and dumps the contents onto her stomach, laying back into Murdock's embrace.

"Dolly," he reprimands.

Her eyes flick from Murdock to B.A. "Thank you," she says in a small voice and returns her attention to her brother's wounded hand. Deftly, she unwinds the bandage, turning the hand this way and that, nimble fingers pinch and explore the punctures in Murdock's flesh.

"Ow!" the pilot jerks.

"Sissy," she responds, pulling his hand back to the light, picking through the various medical items resting on her belly.

Hannibal's eyes narrow, taking in all of the implications of this new information. He watches the precise, quick movements of the younger Murdock cleaning and redressing the vicious bite in his pilot's hand.

Faceman and B.A. chuckle at their friend's whining.

"Kiss the booboo," Dolly sings and showers the fresh bandage with smooches.

"All better. Thanks, baby doll," Murdock says to his sister, rocking with her again. His hand rests gently over her face, the edge of her smile just visible under his palm.

Face smiles at the easy comfort between the Murdock siblings. 'How rare were these calm moments?' he wonders.

Hannibal's mind, on the other hand, is racing. 'Did she survive her execution to become an asset? Is she really too unstable to bring with us on this mission? Why didn't the MP's storm the tent when she was playing banshee? Who knows she's here?' Round and round the questions go, all he can do is speculate. There is no guaranteed way of getting a straight answer out of either Murdock, especially if Sophie's various personalities and psychoses are the origin of HM's own split with reality. One thought in particular circles louder and louder through Hannibal's head, 'Who is Simon?'

Now is not the time, though. Morning is approaching and with it, a briefing with the General.


	7. Sophie

"Why don't you boys try to get some rest," Hannibal says gesturing to Face and B.A., "the Captain and I need to discuss a few things."

"Not a bad idea, old man," Face responds climbing to his feet and making for his cot, B.A. following close behind.

"What's up, Boss?" Murdock asks, still swaying with his reclining sister.

"Boss..," Dolly mouths the word softly, echoing her brother.

"I think you know, Murdock," Hannibal replies, "How am I supposed to approach this with the General?" he waves at Sophie. "Think about it, HM, we're in the middle of a military camp, no one's come questioning the screaming stranger. What do you think is happening here?"

"Here ..." the Murdock sister intones, "No one's here... Simon said, 'Take them apart and send them home.' Simon said, 'Go to Jammy and take apart anyone in the way.' I always know where Jammy is, even when the others don't. You're not in the way, are you, Boss..?" she lifts HM's hand from her face and looks sideways at Hannibal.

"Dolly!" the pilot says sharply, grabbing his sister's chin and forcing her gaze to his. "Why would you ask that?"

"_You_ know," is the accusing reply.

"What're...?"

"We'll never hurt you, Hetch," her voices changes with each word, breaking on the pet name, she stares up into Murdock's face with his exact same eyes.

"Sophie," HM whispers, the barely audible name falling from his lips.

Silent tears build against her lashes and slide down her cheeks. The pilot clutches his lucid sister tightly, burying his head in her hair, knowing that at any moment she could be gone.

"Sophie, Sophie, Sophie, I thought you were dead," Murdock mumbles into her hair. "What happened to you? How did you get here? How long do you have?"

The questions tumble from him in a rush. Hannibal clears his throat; he'd rather yell, assert his authority and demand an explanation but the thinly veiled threat from Dolly still spins through his mind.

"Hannibal! **THIS** is Sophie," Murdock says excitedly, pulling the woman up and turning her to face the Colonel.

"Hetch, I don't have long," she states, "I never do."

Smith can see the clarity in her eyes despite the waiver in her voice.

"Why? What will happen?" Hannibal asks, jumping at the opportunity to get some answers.

"She'll be catatonic… for a while," the pilot runs his fingers through his sister's hair, refusing to let her go. "There's no way of knowing how long she'll be here for or... how long she'll be away."

"Hetch, I'm hungry. I don't know when I've last eaten," Sophie shifts, plucking at her brother's sleeves.

"Damn, Murdock," Hannibal looks as though he's seeing Sophie for the first time. "You two look so much alike."

Two pairs of unfathomable hazel-green eyes take in Hannibal's surprise; they have the same slightly crooked smile, too.

"Not twins?" Smith asks, rising from his chair.

"No," she says.

"Not twins," he finishes.

"Huh. Amazing, Sophie, I'm Col. Hannibal Smith. Your brother's been part of my team for about seven years now, he's a helluva guy," Hannibal offers Sophie his hand and helps her to her feet. Murdock stands as well, still holding onto his sibling.

"Let's get you fed, young lady," Smith smiles, "..Aah, let's get you dressed first, Murdock?"

"Right. Here," HM replies, pushing Sophie into Hannibal.

"Wha!"

"If you hold onto her, sometimes she stays longer," the pilot explains, gathering the medic's uniform from the gurney.

"Yeah.. Heh, it's true," Sophie admits shyly, placing her hands on Hannibal's arms. "Ooooh, look what they do to me...," she sighs, taking in the sight of her own flesh, some of the scars still an angry pink-red.

"Can I ask..." Smith wraps a fatherly arm around her, taking one of her hands gently in his own.

"I'll answer as best I can, Colonel; I don't make much sense, though," she replies, casting about for her brother. "HM?"

"Right behind you. With clothes!" the pilot says brightly, "It may be blue o'clock but we should still cover you up."

* * *

><p>"Captain," Hannibal says as they stroll through the quiet pre-dawn of the camp, "You seem so level with your sister here."<p>

"That's not in the form of a question, Boss. Does St. Helen's seem like a big volcano when compared to Mauna Loa?" Murdock replies, his arm wrapped around his sister's shoulders.

"I see... Well, let's take it slow then," Hannibal holds open the door to the Mess, it's mostly empty and sparsely lit; the cooks can be heard banging around in the kitchen preparing for the first meal of the day. "Is there anything you won't eat, Sophie?"

"I eat food," she answers with Murdock's smile.

"Not twins," Smith mutters, shaking his head, making his way to the food.

* * *

><p>"Are you aware of the others?" Hannibal asks Sophie as she ploughs through a second helping of S.O.S.<p>

"Only as phantoms. The docs let me read my file a few times over the years... Sometimes I see them," she responds through a mouthful. "This is so good..."

"Do you know about your incarceration and death sentence?" There was no way to approach that one gently, so Smith just put it out there. He had thought that a direct question would be best, especially with Sophie lucid and tucked safely in Murdock's embrace.

The Murdock in question seems to be dozing on his sister's shoulder while the Colonel probes for answers; his eyes fly open, though, at Hannibal's question, fixing his superior with a warning gaze, the arms around Sophie's middle tighten possessively.

"Not so tight, Hetch," she complains, "I'm still eating."

"You don't have to talk about it," HM says into her neck.

"As your lawyer, I advise you not to comment," his sibling mocks, turning slightly to face him. "I... remember that I was supposed to go back... to a facility I had been in before... something happened... _IT_ told me I was going to be executed... because I killed you. _IT_ showed me that They would never hurt you... but I couldn't be trusted with your safety anymore... I stopped fighting them, then... there was no more reason... no more _need _to be aware..." her voice trails off.

She's quiet and still for a moment, long enough to make HM nervous.

"Sophie?" Murdock says sharply, shaking his sister, turning her face to his; she blinks and smiles sadly.

"Still here and you are, too. I didn't kill my brother. It had tasted so wrong but who was I to argue with my own mind?" She gives Hannibal a contemplative glance. "_IT_ never lied before. So what _did _happen?" she asks the Colonel.

"Well, I'm still digging for your files but I understand that the Captain was keeping tabs on you from his time in Mexico," Smith replies, "Murdock?"

The pilot clears his throat and glances around awkwardly.

"HM, tell me what happened," his sister says sternly.

He whines unhappily. "The hospital was bogged down in red tape trying to take custody of you so the judge ordered you to be put in general population in a county prison."

Murdock feels his little sister tense in his arms.

"And?"

"...And... you killed eleven inmates, three guards and the warden in less than forty-eight hours... That's when you got the death sentence," he finishes softly.

"Oh. But I'm not dead, am I? I was never executed," confusion is written all over her scarred face.

"No," says Hannibal, "and that's where the real questions start."

"Hetch..." Sophie starts, Murdock knows where this is going.

"No!" he replies.

"I **NEED** proof, Hetch," she states.

"Proof? Of what? With time, we can get you proof," Smith replies, not understanding what she's asking for.

"I don't have any time. When is it, by the way?" Sophie's shaking now, nervous but determined.

"2009, and no, no proof. You have to take my word on it," Murdock answers quickly. "I can't do something like that again."

"Then find another way but this might not actually be real. I might not even be conscious right now. I could be strapped to a bed, screaming," she snaps, agitation rolling off her in waves. "I don't even know where here is. Why would I be in a military camp?"

"Simon," Hannibal jumps in, "Simon told Dolly to find your brother."

"Are there..." Sophie freezes, speaking carefully, "any empty buildings? Solid ones? It's not safe here."

"I don't follow," Smith says.

"_IT_ sent them here for a reason. You're only safe as long as _IT_ wants you that way. A solid building is the best way. It'll be safer for everyone," Sophie whispers, her eyes darting about, sparkling with madness.

"It? Do you mean Simon?" Hannibal asks, the Murdock's agitation is infectious.

"Yeah, she means Simon," the pilot puts in, stealing his sister's fork for a bite of beef. "Sophie... What about George?"

"He's old," she says, calm but trembling. "He would know something, though."

Her voice is sluggish, her movements becoming jerky and forced.

"What's happening? Is she okay?" Hannibal reaches for Sophie's hand, it shakes under his palm; her sparkling eyes flicker and she blinks slowly, mesmerized by nothing.

"She's leaving," Murdock says sadly, shifting his sibling to lie against him.

"Hetch.., don't forget proof," Sophie sounds almost drunk, fighting the sleep that's claiming her mind. "It confides in..."

She's gone, slipped into catatonia. Only the most basic physical functions remain.

"Thank you, Captain," Hannibal says in the weighty silence that follows.

"For what, Boss?" Murdock replies, smoothing back his sister's hair.

"For letting me take up her time. I appreciate it," Smith slides his hand up Sophie's arm to Murdock's.

HM nods, heart sick, "Will you help me carry her back to the tent?"

"Of course."


	8. Proof?

"Alright, Captain, you should have about two hours to get her settled. I have the briefing with the General and then some final preparations for this mission," Hannibal says, setting Sophie's inert body on the gurney.

Murdock can't help but notice the tender way in which his superior arranges her limbs, tucks her in and brushes her hair from her eyes.

"Do we really havta go, Boss?" the pilot asks meekly.

"We do. It's time sensitive but not overly involved. I can also get us some free time with a successful completion. Get her over to the med tent, they'll be able to take care of her while we're away and I'm sure Billy will alert you to any change in her condition," Smith replies righting himself and grabbing his briefing packets.

Murdock gives a dopey smile, "Yeah, he will."

* * *

><p>"Crazy, what the hell you doin'?" B.A. asks.<p>

The madcap jumps at his friend's voice, spinning around, a blow torch and small crucible in his hands.

"Bosco! Jeez man! Don't sneak up on me when I'm smelting!" the pilot yelps turning back to his 'work.'

"I can see that, fool," B.A. snorts. "Why? What happened to your sister?" he finishes looking over Murdock's shoulder to the unresponsive body on the gurney.

"Hmmmmm, oh," HM says, absorbed in whatever it is he's doing. "She's catatonic. That always happens after a period of lucidity. She asked me for proof that she was actually aware and I wasn't dead..." he continues, heating the crucible carefully.

"What does that have to do with metal working?" B.A. doesn't think he'll like where this is headed. He steps closer to the lunatic trying to see what he is actually doing.

"Don't try to understand it, Big Guy. I'm putting one of my tags in her leg; it's the only thing I could think of with such short notice. I need to get this done and bandaged and take her over to the medics as quickly as possible... Sooooo, you can either help me... oooorrrrrr, go the fuck away... In the nicest way possible." Murdock shoots a mean smile over his shoulder.

Baracus is stunned for a second, "Alright, Crazy, what can I do?"

He steps closer to the gurney, Murdock shifting to make room. In front of them is Sophie's bare thigh, prepped as if for surgery. A small section of skin has been cut away and in its place is one of Howling Mad's ID tags. The metal looks sickeningly shiny next to the creamy skin.

"Ever so slowly, am I going to pour this around the tag... I need you to pour that sterile solution on Immediately After," Murdock gestures with the blow torch and sets it aside. He carefully tips the crucible, allowing a thin stream of molten metal fall onto the cut skin. Smoke and the distinct smell of burning flesh rise to greet their noses.

"Shit," is all B.A. can say as he, just as carefully, pours the sterile solution over the hot metal wound. Sophie hasn't noticed at all.

"What the Fuck is going on!" Face shouts behind them, he shoves Baracus out of his way and Murdock quickly jumps to the side, dropping the super-heated container onto the dirt floor.

"Murdock! Man, What the hell did you do?" Face gapes at the angry red skin surrounding the dog tag that has been neatly cauterized into the soft flesh of Sophie's thigh.

"Sophie!" Faceman cries, shaking the woman's shoulders. She doesn't react, can't react. Her head lolls slightly and her mouth hangs open. She blinks once, slowly.

"I did what I had to," is the only response Murdock gives elbowing Face away from his sister to tend the wound. He gently smooths ointment over the skin and wraps bandages around the leg. "I have to take Sophie to the medics. We're leaving in an hour."

The pilot puts a hat on his sibling's head and wheels the gurney out of the tent.

"We gotta go after that mad man! Did you see what he did?" Peck spouts.

"Face."

"I'm stopping him. He may be nuts but that's way over the line," he continues, darting towards the tent door.

"Temp!" B.A. hollers, grabbing his friend, "Let him go!"

"Get your hands off me, man!" Faceman yells back.

"Temp, let him go. We can't even begin to understand what's up with those two. Let him do what he needs," Baracus says, wrestling with the smaller man. "The mission's on."

"What!"

"Sophie's catatonic. It's safe to leave her right now. Crazy said something about needing to give her proof he's alive. He's leaving her with the docs while we're gone," B.A. explains, releasing his teammate.

"But you saw what he did!"

"Face! I helped him."


	9. Weary Wariness

Thirty-six hours later finds the A-Team stumbling back into camp exhausted. It was an easy assignment, by their standards, but the tension between Faceman and Murdock made it unnecessarily difficult. Beyond the required communication, Face hadn't spoken one word to the pilot and was even short with B.A.

"I don't care what you have to do; cry, fuck, I don't care! Just get over it!" Hannibal's had enough; he throws his pack to the floor. "Beat the shit out of each other if you need to but fix this."

He stomps off to his cot, muttering.

Bosco looks amused, glancing between his teammates who glare stubbornly at each other.

"Whatever, I gotta check on Sophie," Murdock spits dropping his gear and leaving the tent.

"Fuck!" Face erupts tossing his stuff, he scrubs at his face, exasperated.

"Don't try to understand it, Face," B.A. says gently, half smiling. "Just accept whatever the guy says."

Faceman rolls his eyes, "Yeah. Sure." He stretches and winces. "Ugh… I should go get stitched up," he grumbles.

"Pro'bly... heh, don't pity him, Face," Baracus arranges his things and heads to his cot. "Hannibal's right though, you gotta fix this," he calls over his shoulder.

"Alright! I know, I know," Face drops his hands, shaking his head, "I'll fix it." He strips off his shirt checking over the gashes in his side. "Son'ov'a," he mutters and stalks from the tent to the medics.

* * *

><p>"The Captain's in there," a pretty nurse gestures as she tapes up Face's bandages. "Who's that woman he brought in?"<p>

"Oh, lovely, it's a long story. Too long for right now," Face gives her a winning grin and pecks her on the cheek. "Thanks gorgeous," he says climbing gingerly from the table and heading in the direction of his lunatic pilot.

* * *

><p>"No, I'm sure. You've done more than enough for her... Thank you."<p>

Face cautiously approaches the screened off area that Murdock's voice drifts from. An I.C. nurse quietly makes her way out, there's a sympathetic sadness about her as she walks away.

Faceman pokes his head around the privacy curtains. "Hey," he says, taking in the sight of Murdock leaning over his sibling.

"Go away, Temp," Murdock replies wearily, not looking at his friend. "I don't want to get into it right now."

Never one to be easily put off Face moves to stand behind HM. He wraps his hands around the pilot's hips, bending to rest his head on Murdock's back.

"I know. I'm sorry for being a prick," Face says. HM tenses under him but makes no other moves. "I can't understand what this is like for you and I shouldn't even try. I should just be here for you when you need me, like B.A. and the Old Man are."

Murdock shivers in Faceman's grip, he seems hotter to the touch. Face, in turn, pulls his friend up and spins him around to look deeply into those lunatic-hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Face says to the madcap and drags the smaller man into a strong embrace.

Murdock returns the hug, his lean arms circling the sculpted waist. Face hisses at the pressure on his new stitches but doesn't pull away, HM notices the reaction, though.

"Oh shit, Temp, I forgot you got hurt. And I was gonna ask if you were seducing me," the pilot jokes, loosening his grip; he sounds and feels more relaxed.

"Ugh, I was thinking about it," Peck grits through his teeth, "but I might need a rain check."

"Ha!" Murdock laughs, giving Face a gentle shove. "It's okay, man. We're shiny. You go get some sleep. The nurses have really taken care of my baby sister. I'm gonna go get clean then hit the hay."

"G'night buddy," Face says, strolling out of the privacy screens. 'That was easy...' he thinks.

* * *

><p>Murdock listens to the fading sound of Face's steps before turning back to his inert sister, a wary look replacing the forced smile he'd given his friend.<p>

"I know y'all can hear me in there," he says in a low voice. "And George, I swear if you even breath one word about me to my team, I'll have Sophie in a drug-induced coma so fast all your heads'll spin."

Sophie doesn't answer, neither does George.

The younger Murdock's brain is locked within itself, unable to respond to the outside world.

"I thought so," HM says meanly. He tucks the blankets around Sophie's still form and plants a kiss on her scarred forehead.

"I'll be back in the morning, sweetheart," he sighs and heads to the showers.


	10. That Old Bastard

"Mornin' Sah," an old, strained voice materializes through the fog of sleep in Murdock's head.

"Hmmmmmph," Murdock grumbles, "five more minutes, George," and rolls over.

"George!" HM bolts upright throwing off his cover, he blinks through the early morning glare. "Geez, George, it's been forever! How ya doin' old timer?"

George sits hunched on a chair next to Murdock's cot, a walking stick leaning against the large bandage on 'his' thigh. "I got your message, sonny," the aged voice sneers. "It's improper to threaten people that can't respond..."

"Awww, man. George..." Murdock drops his head into his hands.

"Come now, Sah. It's still good to see you. Even though my sight's not what it used to be," the old timer reaches out a trembling hand covered in scars. Murdock glances up at his visitor, takes the hand and shakes it gently.

"Captain! Time to get moving! There's a location up north we can... Oh, forgive the intrusion," Hannibal's gruff tones soften, he stops a few feet from Murdock's cot.

"Yes Sir. Hannibal, this is George," the pilot climbs to his feet, "George, this is..."

George lifts 'himself' shakily to 'his' feet, "Colonel Hannibal Smith," the old voice says, one shaking hand clutching the walking stick, the other extended.

Smith, to his credit, accepts that the person before him is not Sophie or that strange Dolly, especially with such a dull, clouded look to her usually brilliant, hazel eyes and the slight tremor that runs through her strong, lean frame.

"It's good to meet you, sir. I understand that you're the man to talk to for some answers about this whole mystery," Hannibal shakes the offered hand respectfully.

"Mystery?" George's voice wavers, "Ahh! That sexless psychopath! Yes, Colonel, bear with an old man, though! I'll wait 'til you can sit for a bit. And, please, call me George."

"Alright then, George, we just have some preparations before we move to a more secure location. Captain, we'll need you to get the transport ready," Hannibal replies turning to pack down the tent and equipment.

"Psychopath?" Murdock cock's his head while he dresses.

George's eyes narrow, "Never trusted that creep. It knows it, too. Trust Simon more than that hooker o' yours, Sah. Only _woman _you ever loved, am I right?"

"For fuck's sake, George! I know I should respect my elders but you really push it sometimes," Murdock bursts sweeping his medications into a small suitcase before tossing throwing it onto the stripped cot.

"Is it still 'This **Man's** Army?' Or isn't it?" George pokes at the pilot with the walking stick. "You don't look at your CO like that do you?"

"What! Hannibal? Hell!" HM had chosen to forget how abusive the old man could be; he couldn't risk an argument with the bastard now, not when they still needed intel. "Look, George, we need to know why the collective 'you' isn't dead and we need to know what Simon wants from me. I'm not gonna let you do this to me now!" Murdock yells swatting away the makeshift cane.

"Everything okay over here?" Faceman ambles over, "Murdock, we need to get in gear, buddy, come on."

"What? Fine. George... just sit down before you hurt yourself," the pilot grumbles, walking away from the antagonizing old 'man.'

George cackles, fits of spasms wracking the laughing body, as 'he' settles into a camp chair. Face has seen Murdock worked up but not the way he is now; the pilot looks like he could throttle someone.

"I'm right behind ya', Face," HM says stopping next to the giggling figure in the chair.

"Heh, heh, heh, so that's the one, Sah? He's a bit too pretty for you, isn't he?" George says in a low voice, laughter still shaking through 'him.'

"Don't ask, don't tell," Murdock snarls leaning over the 'old man' menacingly, "I swear if we didn't need you right now, I'd leave you drooling in a hospital bed, you old bastard."

Murdock shoves himself away from George and storms through the tent gathering equipment as he goes.

That awful, wizened cackle follows him out into the daylight.

* * *

><p>"George?" a gravely, commanding voice calls. Hannibal and B.A. cautiously approach the hunched body in the camp chair. Baracus looks exceptionally uncomfortable with the task of gathering up Murdock's sister.<p>

George wakes with a snort, "Huh? Colonel! Are you ready to talk, then?"

"No, Sir, not yet. We can talk on the flight. We're here to escort you to the transport," Hannibal replies steeping forward to help the trembling figure to 'his' feet.

"What's all this 'Sir' nonsense? I'm sure I told you..." George babbles accepting the assistance.

Hannibal can't keep the amusement from his face, "Yes, George, you did. As one old man to another, you know habits are hard to break. B.A., would you get that pack?"

George chuckles; it's an odd coughing laugh.

As Bosco gathers up the last pack for this 'mission,' he's stunned by the changes in Sophie's appearance and bearing. The most peculiar thing, by far, is the cracked and aged, male voice that issues from her lips. Despite the horrid scarring, she seemed so vibrant in her other persona, now her hair is limp and looks rather gray, her eyes lack luster and she's stooped and tottering as if she were ninety.

George leans heavily on Smith's arm as they make their way across camp to the airfield, B.A. walking a few steps ahead of them.

"George, I hope you'll be comfortable enough flying," Hannibal says genially.

"Of course Colonel, no problems there. I've flown with that boy a number of times," 'he' responds.

B.A. spins on his heel, "And you still trust that fool?"

George cackles, "What's the matter, Sonny, you sound like he threw you out 'a plane without a 'chute!"

"He _DID_ throw me out 'a CHOPPER without a 'chute!" the big guy spouts.

George fishes in one of 'his' pockets and pulls out a small pill. "Here ya' go, boyo. Don't want to be listening to a grown man cry," 'he' cackles again.

"What!" B.A. exclaims. "...Hannibal..." he gives his CO a loaded glance.

Smith tries to swallow the laugh building in his gut, "Now, George, I usually sedate our big Ranger for flights, so please, next time let me handle it."

"That poof really put a scare into you, didn't he, Sonny," George chuckles meanly.

Bosco stiffens at the slight to their pilot but shakes it off at a warning glance from Hannibal.

"Old fool," he mutters continuing on to the airfield. B.A. shakes his head, again, at how easily he accepted this 'old man' aspect of Murdock's younger sister. 'No wonder Crazy is nuts.'


	11. A Brief Look Inside

At the transport chopper, B.A. hesitates for only a moment. He grits his teeth and marches right on board, much to the surprise of Faceman, George's vicious, coughing chuckle still echoing through his head.

Baracus makes his way to the cockpit and straps himself in behind Murdock who is beat boxing his way through the pre-flight check list. The pilot almost trips over the big Ranger before noticing the company.

"Bosco?" Murdock says surprised. "That bastard found your weakness, didn't he?" It's more of a statement than a question but B.A.'s grimace is all the answer he needs.

"Hey, Crazy," Baracus says, "how much time do I have with this one?" he holds up the pill George gave him.

"Huh! 'Bout ten minutes," Murdock smiles as B.A. dry swallows the drug.

* * *

><p>Hannibal settles George into a seat and excuses himself to check on his team.<p>

George nods. "I'll be here when you get back," 'he' says looking around the empty transport.

The space fills with the specters of memories George never had; his wife, Martha, and their children, his comrades from the War, even his best friend, a Joseph Murphy who he survived said War with, none of which ever actually existed.

A misty nostalgia fills the old eyes, "Oh Joe, I miss you, pal," George mumbles to himself.

Other phantoms appear before him, not the wispy, ethereal stuff of fond, long-ago memories but dark and hard-edged, angular and foreboding figures that seem to draw light itself into them.

"Pfah! Great," the old man sighs soothing an old war wound in his leg. "Council meeting?"

A child's high-pitched giggle rings through the air; the sweet sound emanating from a doll, a strange amalgam of action figure and rag doll with music-box ballerina and porcelain angel thrown in for good measure.

"Shut it doll," George snaps, "Ya' got nothin' to say than leave me ta' my memories."

The doll laughs again and pirouettes through the wispy figures of a loving wife and children scattering them like so much smoke in the air.

"Relax George," a slithering, oddly pitched voice says.

George visibly shudders, "What do you..." his words quake.

"I understand you don't trust me, George," the peculiarly sibilant, guttural tones cut him off.

"'Course not, not after the way you lied to us... the way you lied to Sophie," he replies looking around for the source of the words.

An amorphous figure, perfectly androgynous, wavers in George's peripheral vision. "It was only a lie at the time, George," the sexless creature says, "who knows what the future will hold."

"No!" the doll exclaims cartwheeling over the ghosts of George's wartime companions. "Don't you hurt Jammy."

"What do want me to tell them, Simon?" George asks defeated.

"Tell them everything," It replies, "They will meet me soon enough."

"Everything?" he whispers.

"Yes, George," Simon says, "everything."

The shapely, figureless creature laughs at George's discomfort; it is a deep, throbbing noise that escalates to a shrill, pulsing whine.

"Marie might be better for this," George states swallowing hard.

The doll spins to a stop before George. "She's trouble," the child's voice sings, "so's that 'Boss' of Jammy's. I think he's in the way."

The old man forces himself to his feet. "You stay away from that Colonel, you hear me, you plastic brat!" George yells waving his arms at the phantoms, swinging his walking stick like a sword.


	12. Abusive To a Fault

A strong hand catches the stick mid-swing and yanks it away. "George!" a gruff voice shouts.

Young arms catch the off-balance 'old man' as 'he' starts to tumble to the floor.

George looks around bewildered, the space is empty again save for the Colonel and that pretty one.

"Colonel..?" George says quietly as the pretty one helps 'him' back to 'his' seat.

"You were talking to yourself, George," Smith eyes the shaking figure carefully, "want to tell me about it?"

"Heh myself," George responds fumbling with the safety belts.

Young, manicured hands reach in, secure the buckle and soothe the trembling and scarred digits. "Hey, it's okay. Can I get you anything?" Face offers.

George regards the handsome lieutenant warily. 'This one thinks we're crazy... This is the one that might be in the way,' 'he' speculates.

"Ah, no boyo, I'm fine now," the 'old man' replies.

"George," Hannibal says taking the seat next to 'him,' "this is my lieutenant, Faceman, do you mind if he joins us for this conversation?"

"The pretty one's name is 'Face?'" George cackles. "Not at all, sit down, boyo."

Peck straps himself in just in time to feel the acceleration of take-off. The cabin rumbles around them as they're pressed into their seats until that one funny moment of weightlessness at the end of the ascent.

"So Simon wants you to tell me everything," Smith says loudly over the muffled roar of the rotors.

George nods gathering his thoughts. "Studies have shown that in rare cases of severe or extreme comorbid psychoses there is a phenomenon persona," 'he' begins leaning toward the Colonel, "that always presents the same character traits, personal origin, and vocalization in _separate_ subjects but has never appeared simultaneously in separate subjects... until recently. In most instances, this persona will manifest during a trauma of some kind and generally in the very young. Other personalities may or may not develop to help the host cope with this particular identity..."

"I'm sorry, uhhh, sir?" Face interrupts, "I don't understand what this has to do with... anything."

George gives the young man a look and turns 'his' attention back to Hannibal. "I did say 'everything', right?"

"You did, George," Smith replies, "Face, let the old man talk."

"Thank you, Colonel," the wavering voice says, "...where was I?"

"Other personalities de..."

"Oh come on, Hannibal!" Faceman blurts out. "You can't seriously be listening to this!"

"Faceman," Hannibal says in a warning tone.

George chuckles and shakes 'his' head, "Kids these days, huh Colonel?"

"You're my age, you cra..!"

"Lieutenant!" Hannibal shouts; a dangerous twitch at the corner of George's clouded eyes puts Smith on his guard.

George just laughs harder, a harsh, hacking laughs. 'His' breath catches and 'he' chokes and sputters as the pressure in the cabin changes. Hannibal claps 'him' on the back roughly.

"You alright old man?" Smith says to the coughing, laughing, scarred form, "it's just the descent."

"No wonder Sah fancies you so much, pretty boy!" George coughs, adjusting to the changing atmosphere.

"What! Hannibal, you don't believe any of this, do you? She's just..." Faceman doesn't realize what kind of potential damage he's spouting.

"Now, look here, boyo..!" George snaps.

"George please... Face just accept it!" Hannibal alternately pleads and commands, knowing or sensing the possible danger that's building. "The old man has information we need."

"No...!" Faceman's argument is interrupted by the jarring landing.

The lieutenant is the first to recover from the sudden impact. He's out of his seat standing over Hannibal and Murdock's sibling. Faceman shakes at the thought of 'just accepting' that an 'old man' personality has the information they need and that the rest of the team will 'just accept' and indulge the fancies of this crazy young woman.

"No way Hannibal! If anything, this is making it worse! How can you just indulge her like this? There's no 'old man'!" Peck shouts.

Smith unbuckles his and George's safety belts; George is cackling again, there's a malicious edge to the sound now. Hannibal can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he helps the 'old man' to 'his' feet. 'This isn't going to end well,' he thinks.

"What're you scared of, Nancy?" George bellows.

"What did you call me?" Face responds trying to get closer to the Murdock.

Hannibal has his hands full of the trembling ire of the 'old man' while trying to keep himself in Face's way. Sophie's alternates are so developed; Faceman could easily kill her while George is dominant.

"You heard me, Skirt!" George sneers, "You afraid I want to bend you over the way that wacko pilot does?"

"Why you..." Face lunges.

"That's enough!" Hannibal is faster, deflecting the lieutenant and gaining a firmer hold on Murdock's sibling.

"Or maybe that pansy's already spread for you..." George is on a roll now.

Smith has the 'old man' by the shirt front and shakes 'him' roughly, "How Dare You!"

George looks fearful for a moment; 'his' clouded eyes widen and clear suddenly. A sadistic grin that favors Sophie's sharpened teeth appears.

"I knew you were in the way!" Dolly's child-like tone accuses. Hannibal's service blade seems to materialize in her hand, raised over head, ready to strike.


	13. Part Nature

"Dolly, don't!" Murdock yells barreling into Hannibal as the knife comes down. It slashes deeply into the pilot's shoulder and arm as his momentum carries all three of them to the floor.

"JAMMY!" the doll shrieks and tosses the knife away. "Your Fault!" she screams at Smith and Face as she gathers the groaning Murdock into her arms.

"I'll fix you, Jammy, you'll be all better," Dolly murmurs soothingly. She stands gracefully, casually hefting her big brother who grimaces at the jolt to his shoulder.

"Where do I take him?" she demands glaring down at the awestruck faces of Murdock's teammates.

"Dolly, I can stand. I'm okay," HM grumbles as his friends scramble to their feet.

"No. Where do I take him, Boss?" she says, adamant.

"Dolly... I..." Hannibal begins, still stunned by the swift change in Sophie and the easy strength this persona embodies.

"Don't talk. Show," the scarred doll commands.

Murdock nods subtly to his CO, for the moment resigned to the situation.

"Okay, Dolly, okay. Face, go check on B.A.," Hannibal snags the medi-kit and leads the Murdock's from the transport down a path to a house that seems to have been forgotten on a short spit of land by the water. He digs a bundle, left by their local fixer, out from under a warped board on the deck and uses the keys inside to open the door.

Dolly doesn't show any signs of strain or fatigue as she follows, patiently cradling the pilot in her arms. Hannibal leads her through the house to the kitchen, flipping on lights as they go.

She carefully sets Murdock on the edge of a low counter and thrusts an open hand to Hannibal, silently demanding the first aid kit.

'What would she have done if I hadn't brought it with me?' Smith muses handing over the kit.

"Well," Hannibal says clearing his throat, "I'll start bringing in equipment."

"No. You stay," Dolly states like a belligerent five-year-old, "I don't trust you."

"Dolly..," Murdock pleads from his seat on the counter. "He..."

"Hush," she says taking hold of her brother's shirts and gently maneuvering him out of them. "Tell Jammy..." she commands, casting a glance at Hannibal as she picks through the medical supplies.

"What!"

"Tell Jammy you attacked the old man," she says examining the gash that runs from Murdock's shoulder almost to his elbow.

"What? Aah! Dolly doll, that hurts," HM says through gritted teeth, fishing into his sister's pockets with his free hand. "What does she mean, 'you attacked the old man'?" he asks chomping on a pill.

"Captain, it's not that simple," Hannibal starts.

"Well, what happened, then?" Murdock's voice is raised and he moves to stand. Dolly's scarred and bloody hand on his chest stops him.

"Hurt's not bad, Jammy. Just muscles," she says soothingly and plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "Ready?"

Murdock looks balefully at his CO before nodding to his insane sister. "I'm ready," he says bracing himself on the counter top.

HM takes steadying breaths at the initial prick and tug of the precise stitches being sown into his flesh. "Talk to me, Boss, what happened?"

"Boss…" Dolly's compulsion echoes.

Hannibal starts from his reverie, mesmerized by the surgeon quality sutures at perfect intervals. "Well, it started with Face," Smith begins. "He was questioning the validity of what George's intel, which seemed like a case history of what he referred to as a 'phenomenon persona."

"Ssoo, ergh... he was telling you everything," Murdock hisses, digging for another pill in Dolly's pocket.

"Tried to, yeah. Face was saying that it would just make things worse, listening to a cra..." Hannibal stops himself and looks anxiously at Dolly.

"I get it," HM groans.

"I had no idea how... **mean** George could be," Smith says slowly.

Murdock pops an eye open and stares at his superior. "What did he say..?" the pilot asks warily.

Hannibal coughs and looks uncomfortable. "First he called Face Nancy," he smirks at that then gets serious again," then he spouted something about you spreading for Temp... that's when I overreacted and Dolly got my knife..."

"God dammit, George!" Murdock exclaims.

"No moving," Dolly commands continuing with her work.

"Even with Facey questioning him, George wouldn't turn on the bastard juice without a reason. Sorry Dolly," Murdock forces himself to stillness.

"Temp said there was no 'old man,'" Hannibal mumbles quickly looking away from the Murdock's.

"What was that, Hannibal?" HM pries.

The Colonel's reply is interrupted by shouting at the front of the house; he moves to investigate but is stopped short by the doll's sudden appearance in front of him.

Dolly advances, slowly backing Hannibal into a corner; he raises his hands in surrender.

"I said, 'you stay'," Dolly says and turns back to her stitching.

"Baby doll, you can't hold him hostage like that," Murdock says to his sister.

"Not hostage," she replies arranging HM's wounded arm to continue the neat line of sutures, "Prisoner."

HM blinks as though this reasoning had not occurred to him, he silently exercises every ounce of patience he has and looks over to his Colonel standing obediently in the corner like a child in timeout. The Captain and his CO share a quiet, intense moment of swallowing their laughter before Murdock is able to say in a shaky voice, "You were saying, Boss?"

"Boss," Dolly echoes again quietly, tying off the last stitch and proceeding with the final cleaning of the gash.

"Right. Faceman said there was no old man, that we were just indulging wild fancies," Hannibal explains struck again by the expert way in which Dolly bandages Murdock's wound.

"Ooooh, that's not good, Bossman."

"I didn't think so, either. That's what set George off on his abusive tangent but it's what he said about you that made me threaten him," Hannibal looks remorseful about the entire situation. "Dolly," he says gaining her attention, "I'm sorry HM got hurt."

She regards the Colonel skeptically, adjusting the make shift sling she fashioned from one of Murdock's ruined shirts.

A hop, skip and a jump put Dolly inches from Hannibal who despite his height and weight advantage recoils from the psychotic. Balancing on her tiptoes, she pecks a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw and pirouettes away, singing, "Okay Boss, I accept."

Hannibal touches a hand to the kiss, surprised again by the younger, more insane Murdock. "That's it?" he asks stepping tentatively from the corner.

HM looks just as surprised as Smith. "That's it," he replies.

Smith helps Murdock climb carefully down from the counter while Dolly continues her impromptu dance around the kitchen. The shouting from moments ago had been forgotten until returned suddenly along with heavy thumping in the hall.

"You don't know that, man!" B.A.'s deep voice bellows.

"I know what I saw, big guy! That woman could be the end of all of us!" Faceman shouts back, appearing in the large doorway of the kitchen, "Hannib..chrpmb..." Face had begun to turn into the kitchen proper when a twirling Dolly seized him by the throat and hoisted him into the air, slamming him bodily into the door frame.

"Face!" Baracus exclaims, having only seen the flurry of movement but not the wiry woman one-arming the larger man off the floor. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

"Dolly!" Murdock and Hannibal yell.

"You apologize, too," Dolly says calmly, glaring up at the reddening Faceman.

Face sputters and gags but makes no noise that the doll can recognize as an apology. Her grip tightens in frustration, Face's eyes rolling back into his head.

"Dolly," Hannibal's gruff voice soothes, "he can't apologize from up there."

"Yeah, Baby doll," B.A. agrees, "that fool can't talk when his feet aren't on the ground."

Dolly looks doubtful but it would explain why the Face Man hasn't answered her.

"Mmmm, I guess," she says releasing her hold. Face falls heavily to the floor, coughing, tears streaming from his still bulging eyes. She stands over him, "Apologize," she says again.

"I'm... I'm..." Faceman draws deep, ragged breaths, not quite able to form words. He looks up to the scarred woman imploringly.

"Not to me," she says, hunkering down to be eye level with the lieutenant. "To Jammy." He looks at her, confused and disbelieving, like Hannibal, Peck flinches when she moves closer. As easily as she lifted him into the air, she hauls him to his feet and walks him over to Murdock. "Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry, buddy..." Face blurts, still catching his breath.

"It's okay, Temp, thanks," Murdock replies. "See, Dolly, all better."

The doll beams a heart-melting smile at Face and pats him on the head.

"Hannibal, man, help me unload the rest of the supplies," B.A. says gruffly. "At this rate it will only take all night." He turns away from the averted disaster and tromps off to the transport.

"Right... Dolly, want to play a game? It's a racing game," Hannibal eyes the young Murdock, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"What do I win?" she demands, her body tensing.

"Umm... It's a secret prize," Smith says quickly. "Think of a prize..." he mutters to Murdock.

"How do I win?" she asks, eyes wide and sparkling, practically vibrating with the thrill of a secret prize.

"Well you have to bring more equipment and supplies from the transport than B.A..."

"But Bearcus has a head start!" Dolly whines, bouncing on her toes.

"Bears are slow?" Face puts in, Murdock stifles a chuckle.

The doll is running in place now, looking at the Colonel expectantly.

"Dolly, you have to drink this potion before you start," HM hands her a water bottle. "Ready..."

She chugs the water in seconds.

"Set..."

Dolly spins around in the doorway, her whole body ready to spring.

"Go!" Hannibal cries and she sprints off through the house, a loud bang signaling that she's through the front door.

"Good thinking, Boss," Murdock says straightening the medical supplies left over from his minor surgery.

"What was with the 'potion'?" Faceman asks lending a hand.

"Dolls don't drink, Lieutenant," Hannibal answers, HM nods agreement, and marches off to oversee the 'race.'

A few moments of quiet pass before a thunderous "WHAT THE...!" fills the air.

Hannibal's raucous laughter follows.


	14. Tutu!

"Murdock? What are you doing?" Face asks the pilot, finding him in an upstairs bedroom rifling through a closet.

"I'm trying to make a prize for Dolly..." he answers tossing brightly colored clothes onto the floor.

"You're really gonna do that?" Face says, taken aback. "Don't you think...?"

Murdock groans and turns from the closet, resting against the frame. "You don't get it, do you, Face?" he says digging a pill out of his pocket. "I'm not 'indulging fancies' and neither are Hannibal and Bosco."

"She attacked you though, man," Faceman moves toward his friend, his hands reaching out and circling the smaller man's waist. "She's dangerous," he says softly, almost begging.

"I've known that," Murdock snaps, "now you do, too. Why can't you accept that Sophie is the way she is? You accepted me."

"You're nothing like her, HM."

The pilot pushes Face away, grimacing at the movement. "I'm _JUST_ like her, Temp. You choose not to see it. And she didn't attack me, or Hannibal for that matter, Dolly was _defending _Sophie."

"But you didn't hear what she was saying..."

"**She** didn't say anything, Face, that's the point!" Murdock is near tears now, trying to define that which cannot properly be explained. "Sophie's not the only fully developed person in that head of hers. She never has been!"

"That's impossible, though!" Face reaches for his friend again but his hands are swatted away, "something must've caused..."

"No. Temp, it's not impossible," some of the fight goes out of the pilot and the tears win, streaming freely down his face. "Sometimes people are just made that way. And... And all you can do... is accept it."

Faceman captures the pilot's hand in his and draws him close, "I'm not good at that Murdock but I'll try. I'll try harder."

"It's all you can do," HM sniffles. "Now, help me make a prize for Dolly. I was thinking of a tutu... and I only have one hand right now."

Face looks disappointed somehow. "Sure, bud, okay," he wipes away the tears left on the pilot's cheeks and puts on a smile but it's a sad one full of questions and doubts. "Tutu..?"


	15. Part Nurture?

The unloading of equipment was accomplished in record time thanks to Dolly's unusual stamina. The game had been an easy win for her, even after B.A. was made aware of the race. Hannibal would occasionally step in to have the 'contestants' chug 'potions' to keep their strength up. Now was the time to unveil the secret prize that the Colonel had promised.

Murdock drifts in and out on the sofa while Faceman sets up computer systems in the dining area.

"Damn," B.A.'s voice calls from the front hall, Hannibal and Dolly following. "She didn't even break a sweat..!"

"Dolls don't... swmmm..." Murdock mumbles from the couch.

"What'd you say?" Baracus asks loudly.

"Dolls don't sweat, Corporal," Hannibal answers clapping B.A. on the back. "But you do!"

"Eh, yeah, I do. I'm gonna shower," the big guy responds heading up the stairs.

"Stinky Bearcus," Dolly says. "Prize time!" she hops over to the sofa, looking down at her dozing brother. "Jammy," she whispers loudly, "I won!"

"'Course you did, baby doll," his voice hoarse with sleep and pain killers. "You're good at races."

"Prize, Boss, prize," Dolly spins around leaping over to Hannibal who drops heavily into an overstuffed armchair. With child-like dexterity she perches on the arm of his chair, looming like a petulant toddler over Smith.

Hannibal smiles indulgently up at the woman.

"Murdock," the Colonel says officiously, "the prize..."

"Mmmmm, Facey," HM calls in return, shifting on the sofa.

"Coming," Faceman intones from the dining room.

Dolly manages a fairly gymnastic maneuver on the chair arm to end fully stretched across Hannibal's legs, arching backward to watch Face approach upside-down.

"Hey, hey," Face says, "You gotta close your eyes and no peeking."

The doll obeys, covering her eyes with her scarred hands. "I'm waiting..." she sings wriggling in Hannibal's lap.

The Colonel clears his throat and shoots an uncomfortable look at his XO; Face bites his lip and a small giggle bubbles out of the pilot on the couch.

"Ta-Dah!" Faceman cries, pulling a brightly colored, multi-layered, slightly umbrella-shaped tutu from behind his back with a flourish.

"Tutu!" Dolly exclaims jumping up from Smith's lap, he sighs audibly in relief earning another snicker from the sofa.

"Now, Dolly," Face says seriously, "I present your prize for winning the first ever Bear Race, use it well."

"And no dancing 'til daylight," HM slurs. "We don't wanna miss your show."

"Jammy look what I won!" she twirls to the couch holding the tutu up like a trophy.

"I can see that. It's amazing," Murdock replies, fighting the drugs to stay conscious just a moment longer.

She looks on her older brother dotingly, "Jammy, you can't sleep here."

"Sure I can."

"No," Dolly states, "I'll take you to a bed."

There's no arguing with Dolly when she uses that tone so Murdock sighs and acquiesces. "Okay, Face can lead the way."

Without thinking, Faceman moves to assist the younger Murdock with her brother but she needs none. That remarkable strength and fluid grace scoop up the wounded pilot and cradle him gently.

'Right,' Face reminds himself, 'she one-armed me off the floor, why would she need help with Murdock?' He turns away and leads the burdened doll up the stairs to a room that Murdock had chosen earlier; it's small with a single bed and lots of pillows.

"Temp," HM says, his voice thick, "don't forget... tell Hannibal..."

"You got it, pal," Face replies and leaves Dolly to arrange her brother and say goodnight.

She settles him gently on the mattress and holds him up to fluff the pillows. He's almost asleep before he even reclines.

"I'm serious about the dancing, Dolly Doll," HM says, not even opening his eyes.

"I know," she responds quietly pulling the covers over him.

"Don't forget to take off your shoes," Murdock continues, "we're inside now."

"Okay, Jammy," Dolly replies straightening the comforter.

"The Boss..."

"Boss," she echoes, smoothing a hand over his hair.

"Hmmm, Boss and the Face Man have candy for you. Love you, Dolly Doll," HM sighs as he drifts off.

"Love you, too, Jammy," she says and walks quietly from the room, turning the light off as she goes. "Hi Bearcus, Jammy's sleeping," Dolly says to a startled B.A. in the hall.

"Oh," is all he replies to her retreating back.


End file.
